


safety scissors

by fishysama



Series: goretober 2019!!! [26]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Crying, Cutting, Gen, Goretober, Goretober 2019, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Blood, No Plot/Plotless, Pre-Canon, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 20:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishysama/pseuds/fishysama
Summary: goretober day 26: sona(s)as in "gold," the name meaning. i am not a furry, goretober prompts >:(ash and a friend play with scissors.





	safety scissors

“Ah, you’re so pretty…”

Ash throws his head down. He doesn’t want to see the expression, the eyes. He’s grown tired of it. Not just tired, but afraid.

“Such pretty golden hair… I’m jealous…” Ash can hear the breathiness, the loneliness, the desire. He feels nauseous. And then, he hears scissors— not barber’s scissors, but the ones used by children with construction paper, the rounded point. The snipping. “Can I keep some?” He says, but he already has received it, a stolen lock of golden hair.

More snipping. Ash cringes. He hates how he looks with a buzzcut, but at this point, he doesn’t have much of a choice beside shaving it all off. Ash feels his hands resisting, wanting to push him away, stop the snipping, stop the horrific touching, but it’s impossible. He’s stuck. He feels himself crying, so lowly. Something was sick about this, sicker than the usual sick. Something had gone rancid.

Then, the man stops, huffs, and heads to the other side of the room. “Pretty, but you’re boring.” There’s a bookshelf that he browses through, looking for something heavy rather than a good read. There’s a dictionary that he picks up, or maybe a textbook, or maybe an anthology. Ash can’t tell; the tears blurred his vision too much to differentiate. He thinks it a dictionary though, due to its size. Its weight. “I wonder how you’d look cut up? Would you like that?”

Ash shakes his head loosely, but with strong intent. His mouth is too dry to say what he thinks. Despite that, the safety scissors— tarnished silver blades with a candy red handle, he remembers preschool— are situated on his bare thigh, sharp edge down, the book is raised above it.

“Pretty boy… I want to hear you scream. Can you do that for me?” The man’s hand forces Ash’s head up suddenly; Ash shuts his eyes tight because the last thing he’d want to do is see. “That would make me _ very _ happy.” With that, he brings it down.

Ash does as requested, not because it was requested, but out of instinct and terror and pain. He screams and cries and his tied arms wriggle and pound against his back. When the man lets go of his head, it drops down, but his eyes stay shut. He didn’t want to see the scissors in his leg. He didn’t want to see how deep it went.

He never looked at the nurse when getting flu shots. He didn’t want the sight of the needle disappearing beneath his skin, the trickle of blood upon removal. He wanted a  _ Winnie the Pooh _ bandaid and a lollipop. He wanted to go home. He wants to go home. Cape Cod.

The man yanks at Ash’s scalp, pulling out chunks of gold. Still, he’s not amused. He removes the scissors; Ash can feel his skin and muscle going back into place. With a huff: “Let’s try that again, shall we? Put more effort in. I paid good money for this.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://juroguro.tumblr.com/)


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